by Helen Ivory | Aug 3, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Skunk Cabbage A long way from the quags of Nova Scotia, stowaway beneath the cherry laurel thicket, more triffid than cabbage, your skunk mustard and garlic to some, rotting meat to beetles. I’ve stumbled across your invasion, trespassers to the...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 2, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Falling in love with a moment I fall in love with the way the sea lays salted glass, garlic cooks in its own skin. I fall in love with the way new badges sit on my hat and cardigan wars. I fall in love with sheltering from rain in pottery shop...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 1, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
see the light 1 in the beginning, there was light. and light said: let there be god. and god meant: everything touched by light. 2 and light so loved, light bled. bled so much, god bathed. bathed so much, light spilled. spilled so much, so much...
by Sofía Masondo | Jul 31, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
The Abbot of Kosljun Monastery Considers the Cyclopean Lamb He suppresses a shudder as he summons the brothers from the library; shows how extensive are notes they will take of the specimen the farmers brought to the island that morning, their...
by Sofía Masondo | Jul 30, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Travel essentials A rucksack isn’t a kitchen dresser, or a view, or a whirl of Christmas Market cinnamon, sweet almonds, or the comfort of the bells of Beata Maria leading safe home through the restless stammer of a lonely night; a rucksack...
by Sofía Masondo | Jul 29, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Water Damage Noted 06/24 An old lady enters, soak-dizzy, puts her returned book on the trolley. She’d not bothered to carry it in her bag, barely shielded it with her coat. The pages are wobbled, warped, thin skin wrinkling in fast-forward. Yes,...
